Dear Sisters, who is God? I mean, who is God in our everyday lives, when the sink is full of dishes, we’ve had too little sleep, with our work obligations and our health troubles? Who is He then? As lovely as it is for Him to comfort and sustain — which He does. As wonderful as it is for Him to meet us in our need as a dear, dear Friend — which He is. Who He is, is so much more. A snatch of who He is softens our suffering and shrinks our troubles. Who He is brings the balm of worship that encourages our souls. Oh, He is so much more.
I think in the daily rotation of our lives, we forget that His hands hung the stars we see each night. His fingers flung the light waves that allow us to see those stars, centuries before they reached our eyes. His Being is so vast that He simply spoke and the universe began. It leapt into motion: it started its predetermined dance, a dance that He began and is destined to end…with Him. “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” He declares (Rev 22:13).
In the span of all this creation, all this time, in all this stunning brilliance and ever-changing cosmos, He always was exactly as He is now (Heb 13:8). No sweeping national history can rival how ancient He is, and yet, He is the same. And in the far-flung “is” that will be in the future, He will still be exactly as He is now. Unchangeable. Solid. Consistent. And inexplicably, for us, there is simply no end of Him. We will spend forever and still not come to an end of who He unchangeably IS.
It is not that He is simply greater. For to compare Him with me would be like comparing me with a single-celled organism with a lifespan of mere hours. And still, the comparison falls short. He made me–all that I am spiritually and physically and all that I will be. And He made the amoeba in its elegant little package of what we call life. But by comparison, the amoeba and I are the same, together…while He stands in infinite, awesome “otherness” to us both.
And yet this Being of all Beings came down and inserted Himself into His own handiwork. Like us in form, but unlike us in sin. We had fallen short, but He is the sinless One. He, the Eternal, All-knowing, All-powerful, came here. Inserting the Divine into time, He set aside His glory and enveloped His awesomeness into a tiny human body. When I think of His vastness and picture Him there in the familiar soft pudge and whimper of a newborn baby, I shudder. It is tragic and breath-taking at the same moment. A baffling contrast and stunning love in the same breath.
How can the infinite God become so heartbreakingly human? How could He forever be the Beginning and the End and yet be confined to time as a drowsy infant in Mary’s arms? To think, He quietly upheld everything in the created universe while his feet padded softly in the freshly fallen snow of the temple courtyard. (John 10:23) How could He polka-dot the universe with star-eating black holes, and yet have the tender compassion to turn to His mother during His dying moments and provide for her? (John 19:26-27) And How did He exhale a final time but still command the gravity that let His rib cage relax in willing death? (John 19:30)
Why? The question will hang forever over all the hosts of the Redeemed in Heaven. Why would He come so far? Why would he humble himself in such a scandalous way (Phil 2:6-8)? Why would He declare us beautiful (Isa 60:9) and delight Himself in us (Isa 62:4) and prepare a place for us to eternally be with Him (Jn 14:3)? And why does He love me so passionately that He rejoices over me with gladness, and softly, daily, intimately, renews me in His love (Zeph 3:17-18)?
I don’t know. But, oh, how it draws my soul to worship.